


Missed Connections

by resdes2



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Grindr, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resdes2/pseuds/resdes2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has finally come to terms with his sexuality and is ready to explore that side of himself, but he begins to learn that he knows next to nothing about the gay community. Stiles is comfortable in his skin but just wants to have fun. Isaac is fine with himself but not fine with having his father finding out. Scott just wants to show his love, so why is that not all right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Derek

**Author's Note:**

> I don't claim to know everything about the gay community. I am just trying to paint a picture of what I have experienced either personally or through other's stories. If I seem to make broad generalizations, know that I as an author do not claim to be a zeitgeist and please do not think this is it. Go research for yourself.
> 
> This will be written in installments. Short installments. With lots of time in between. Don't get angry at me. This is just life. 
> 
> Each chapter will be in a different character's voice. The chapter title will be the character for the chapter.

I had done it. I had gone through the motions. I had the inciting moment. It was a dream I wasn’t expecting. In a nap nonetheless. It wasn’t someone I knew. Just a stranger I made up. Brown hair. Lanky. It happened in a dairy aisle. I don’t know where. He came up to me and we were horizontal. Someone looked on and I didn’t care because his long arms enveloped me and his mouth ate mine and I woke up with an erection and my sheets felt softer and the world felt warmer for a second. 

This changed almost immediately, however. Only moments later did my inner conflict come about. What had I dreamed? Who was this? Why was his gender male? I felt a cold, moist chill grow at the pit of my abdomen as something I was unwilling to admit to myself began to grow and glow a black, bright sheen of fear and love. 

The dreams, at first, were infrequent. I was in a relationship at the time. With a woman. Kate. I thought I loved her then, but I didn’t know who I was. She also tore me apart, destroyed me, broke my soul, and ruined me. But that has nothing to do with my awakening. I was not turned off by women by her. I was just never turned on, and maybe that was why she hated me so goddamn much towards the end, but it has nothing to do with how I face myself today. 

The dreams, when they came, were nevertheless terrifying and thrilling. Dreams of men, men I never met, lots of them, doing things to me and me doing things to them, moments I never expected nor never dreamed of touching me and holding me and loving me in a way I had never been loved before. It was awful. My mind couldn’t handle it. My sheets couldn’t either. 

It got to the point where I was afraid to walk through magazine aisles for fear of looking at Men’s Health magazines or anything with an even remotely attractive celebrity. Trips to the gym were god awful, watching all of those fit men getting fitter. I didn’t know which was worse. Me never attaining them, or me wanting to attain them. 

Then came the fear of what happens if I try to get with one of them. If I try to reach out and get rejected, or worse. What if they attack? What if I get hurt? The thoughts pushed me farther and farther back from the light. I came to the conclusion I would probably never love. I didn’t want to put myself in that position. I would force myself with a woman. Women wanted me, so I must want them, right? There was just some circuit that was not fully there. I needed someone to fix me. 

The next step was me stumbling upon gay porn. Maybe it was my subconscious. Maybe the internet really is that sneaky. Either way I was face to face with a man performing oral sex upon another man and I was completely aroused. I orgasmed within seconds and I didn’t even care, until five seconds after ejaculation when I cried, wept, into myself. There was no way of stopping this. 

After that, it was acceptance of who I was. I had to admit to myself that I was who I was and I liked who I liked. There was no other option. I was sexually aroused by this and after much more research in the porn department, I could not go back. Acceptance, which had been a long time coming, finally came. 

Then, it was time to tell others. Well, it was time to worry and fret and tell no one for months. Days, weeks, months, years of perfect moments for me to tell them. A bounty of “How come I haven’t seen you with a girl recently?” or “You seem off” or “Why so moody?” or “Please, talk to me, you’re even less talkative than your normal self, which is saying a lot.”

Each time, it was me, just about to say it, the words on the tip of my tongue, my body shooting out of my skin, and then the let down, the never gonna happen, the anticlimax. It kept eating and eating at me until I had nothing left. I needed help. I needed to reach out. It happened first with my sister in her room late in the evening or early in the morning when I couldn’t sleep and she couldn’t either. 

Laura, I’m gay. 

Hugs and kisses and shhh’s and words of hope and help and reassurance and it gets better and yadda yadda yadda. Next, my best friend. 

Isaac, I’m gay.

Looks of confusion and fear and keeping away and asking why and am I sure and will it get better and yes it will and whatever man we will get through this and I still love you and

Derek, I’m gay, but don’t tell anyone. 

Shock and awe and hugs and love and hope and of course I don’t want you you’re my best friend but it’s been eating at me too but I couldn’t tell anyone because I’m afraid my dad will find out and good God what would happen if that came out. I promised to keep his secret. I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want him to get hurt. It’s been happening too much and too often to Isaac, I didn’t want his dad to have any more against him. We stayed up telling each other that part of ourselves we were both too scared to tell each other. Alcohol was involved, of course. A bit more than normal, but it was a celebration of life and truth. 

Eventually, I told my parents. Sat them down, beat around the bush, waited, kept it in until I couldn’t keep it in anymore and it burst out, the whole shebang (though there most certainly was no she banging). 

Mom. Dad. I’m gay.

Hugs and tears and unconditional love and I knew it and you can tell us anything and we will always love you no matter what and you can always be open and we will always be there for you and everything is all right and whatnot and do not worry do not fret my dear our love we are here for you. 

Groups and the internet helped. Making it official to the rest of my friends. A whirlwind of the same sentence over and over again. Finally, this grueling process was done. My own mini plot over and done with. My plot of knowledge and recognition and acceptance and revelation, done and in the past. I was ready to live my life as a gay man. 

So my first step in that part of my life, a part that was me but did not define me, was downloading grindr. The first guy I found in my area who responded had the username justyourstiles.


	2. Stiles

So I’m fucking around on grindr (not literally, yet) and I’m looking at all the people in my area, those I’ve met, those I’ve fucked, those I avoid, those who have texted me, the usual, when I stumble upon probably the most perfect motherfucker I have ever seen in my life. 

I at first think he’s just a bot. It’s not the first time. Some fucker probably stole a picture from the internet and used it to try and get me to buy porn or whatever shit, I don’t know, I’ve never tried to talk to one before. But this guy was too goddamn hot for me to pass it up. I was just planning on screenshotting it to save for my spank bank or whatever. He was that hot. 

But then I see that his username is sourwolf. That doesn’t sound like a bot name. It sounds like a creep, though, one of those people who are really ugly who are just trying to lure you in and really hate humanity. Or maybe some homophobe who’ll beat me up after I invite them over. I don’t know, but goddamnit I was intrigued. I had to say hello. 

I message him, _hey wassup ur cute_

_I’m good, hbu?_ he responds almost immediately.

I wait a little bit before I text him back. Don’t want to look desperate. _good now that ur talkin 2 me_

_]ol_ Is that it? Just a fake chuckle? Is he bashful? Shy? He’s on grindr, he’s asking for sex basically, or at least I am. I’d do any fucking thing to ride him if his photo is any indicator of the truth. 

I look at the photo again. Just a picture of his face. Not smiling. Almost brooding. He’s got a five’o’clock shadow and his eyes are piercing. God, I don’t care anymore, he could be a serial murderer but I am willing to take that risk. 

_watcha doin?_ I ask him.

_Nothing at the moment. Might go to the gym._ Of course he would. He’s that kind of a guy. I mean, I go to the gym, too, but he’s probably one of those guys you only see in the weights section, like they literally never leave and they sleep there or something. You never see them out in the open, roaming the streets. They are gym rats. Huh, I just got that. 

_im soooooo bored_ I tell him, hoping he might instigate something. 

_Sorry to hear that_

So it looks like I’m gonna have to be the one to reach out to him. So fucking be it. _wanna cum over? liven up my boring life?_

He had to understand what I meant by that. I mean, fucking come on, look at that spelling of “cum”. I don’t know why I type like this on here. In any other texting situation, my grammar is impeccable and I write with full words and sentences. I don’t know why I dumb my writing down on here, but I do, and sometimes I question this practice, but everyone else does, and I don’t want to seem the odd one out, so I might as well. 

A little time passes. He’s thinking it over. That’s fine, he can take some time to choose. As long as the eventual choice is me. 

_Why not? The gym can wait_

I message him my address and my door is knocked within fifteen minutes. I knew he was close, but goddamn he must have sprinted here if he could get here that quick. 

I open the door and he’s even more breathtaking in person. He fills the entire fucking doorframe and he seems really intimidating and for a second I really think he is going to kill me. He’s come to claim another homo victim, but all I’m thinking is, fucking worth it. 

“Hello,” he manages to say before I pounce on him, wrapping myself around him and sticking my tongue down his throat.

He immediately pushes me off in shock, which I can understand how he can, he could probably bench like three of me. 

“Woah,” he says. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, was this not what you’re expecting?”

“I’m...kind of new...to this whole thing,” he says to the floor, a blush he would probably blush at screaming from his cheeks.

“That’s fine, we can take this slow. We can do whatever you feel comfortable with,” I tell him as I pull him through the door and shut it behind him. I lock it, a symbolic act for myself to represent all the nasty shit I hope will go down soon. “Would you like coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks,” he responds. 

“Any milk or sugar?”

“Black.”

“A man after my own heart,” I say through the kitchenette. After starting the coffee maker, I moved into the living room, if you could call it that, and sat a little bit apart from this man. 

“So what’s your name, stranger?” I asked. 

“Uh, Derek,” he responded, still incredibly and beautifully shy. “Yours?”

“Stiles.”

“Oh, hah, I get it now.”

“You get what now?”

“Your username. Or whatever.”

“Oh, hah, yeah, right, I forgot about that. Just a little pun. Not too funny. I don’t even remember making it up anymore. It had a meaning a long time ago that got lost somewhere.” 

“No, it’s funny, I like it, it’s...cute.”

“Just like me,” I said unabashedly. 

“Do...do you use grindr often?” he stammered to ask. 

“Oh, I mean, I guess so. I, like, don’t get tricks all the time, but sometime when I’m bored or, you know...” I let the sentence wander off into obvious ambiguity. 

“...no, sorry, I don’t.” 

“You know, like...”

“What’s a trick?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh, um, well, you haven’t been gay for that long, now have you?” I asked him, because honestly, he was screaming virgin, possibly never even got it on with a girl. I feel sorry for the poor kid, even though he’s obviously older than me. I’m sure he knows more than I do about sports and outdoors and shit but, god, he probably barely knows what sex is. 

“I didn’t know that many gay kids growing up. I don’t really know any now.”

“It’s all right, man. That’s what grindr is for,” I say, hopefully soothingly. 

“Is that what a trick is?” 

“What?”

“A gay friend. Would you be my trick?” 

“I...the coffee is done,” I say, immediately getting up. I suddenly didn’t know how to respond to that. No, I wanted him to be a trick. In and out. Done and over with. Simple and clean and out the door. Maybe get his number. Maybe text him again when I’m horny somewhere down the line. Fuck if I know what my future has in store. 

I came back in with the coffee, handing him a fresh mug, dark and roasty and he tried to warm himself with it, or at least that was what it looked like. 

After thanking me, he said, “I...I’m sorry, I don’t really know the protocol or whatever.”

“There kind of is no protocol. It’s just whatever you want.”

“Like, I don’t really know what to expect. Or what I want.”

“You do like men, right?” I asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Just checking. You’re kind of too good to be true.” 

“As in?” he asked the floor. He kept asking goddamn inanimate objects everything. 

“You’re so hot I can’t believe my luck to find you on grindr.”

“Oh, thanks,” he replied, finally looking up at me and smiling, killing my soul and making me semi-hard. I needed to get this going. I had shit to do later and the sexual tension was killing me. 

“You’ve never done this before, have you? Like, meeting a random guy?”

“No, not really.”

“Just out of curiosity, what were you expecting out of this?”

“I...I don’t know. All I had gotten to in my imagination was the door. And then you opened it. Right now, I’m kind of like, going along, watching the present happen in real time. This has never really happened before. I usually feel so calculated. I can guess what’s going to happen next, but this, this is all so new to me.”

“Wow, hot and articulate. Jackpot,” I said, trying to compliment him even more. 

“I mean, I’ve never even kissed a guy,” he said. 

“Never?” I responded, my curiosity suddenly going haywire, as I’m sure his was as well. 

“Nope,” he answered. 

“Well, I mean, there’s no shame in that, really. Everyone goes at their own pace,” I told him, speeding up my own, moving over to the couch and sitting right beside him. 

“Yeah, it’s just, like, I never had the chance. I never know who to ask. Who’s gay and who’s not. It’s all ridiculous.”

“Well, grindr is a good place to start.”

“For what? Finding tricks?”

“Something like that,” I said, my hand sliding down his thigh. 

“Am I your trick?” he asked, his lips almost brushing mine with those words. I told him by locking his face with mine. This time, he was not so hesitant and I was not so brutal. Well, at first. Once I noticed that he had created a rhythm counter to my own, I sped up, emphasized more, and pushed him onto his back. 

Clothes started to come off. First his shirt, revealing the most chiseled chest I have ever seen in my fucking life. Goddamn Adonis would be jealous. Next mine, which he pulled off awkwardly over my head, getting me stuck. It was fine. It was his first time. Then my pants and then his, leaving us both in just our undies. Luckily I wasn’t freeballing today or I would have scared the living crap out of him. 

After some heavy kissing, some grinding of crotches, and some light touching through fabric, I got up and went to my drawer quickly, watching him watch me as I moved across the apartment to grab a condom and some lube. Jumping back on top of him, I threw both on the side table above our heads. Diving in for a kiss, I whispered into his neck, “I want you to fuck me. Is that all right?” I could feel his head nod as his chin rubbed against my hair, telling me to proceed. All right, he was fine with this. Good thing I had cleaned myself earlier. I know it’s gross to think about, but it’s the things I have to do for sex. Rather that than an incident later down the line. 

Kissing down his abdomen made of steel, I slowly rolled his boxer briefs down, revealing his pretty massive package. I was in luck. And I was in for a treat. He was already hard as a rock, but there was no shame in getting him a little more prepared. Foreplay is always fun and hell, I like giving hot guys head. Sue me. 

I used all my classic moves, starting with the tender head, and slowly warming myself up. His reactions were excessive, but I don’t think anyone had touched him down there in a while. His moans were louder than most of the guys I had been with. It was almost panting in some respects, but God, it made it all the hotter for me. 

He couldn’t handle himself and he began thrusting into my mouth. Luckily my throat, after an adequate amount of practice, has learned to taking a beating, and his girth and somewhat aggressive thrusting upwards were small challenges I was able to overcome. 

I don’t know if I had lost track of time having so much fun torturing the guy or he really had no stamina to speak of, but suddenly without little warning he was reaching climax. I knew the warning signs by now, so I pushed my nose into his pubes, something I was quite proud of, and swallowed him and his little swimmers whole. He fell down from heaven shortly thereafter, sweaty and breathing deeply and rapidly.

I kissed back up the path I made before and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. I didn’t want to frighten him with his own taste just yet. “Nothing to worry about, stud. Just ten more minutes and you’ll be ready to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to give a little more, end it on a slightly happy note, which of course is quite mysterious. Also, let you know what you may or may not be in for if you continue to read this story. Please send me messages, give me notes, tell me what is and isn't working. This is in progress and I'm writing it as I go. Though I have a broad idea for the trajectory, this is open to change. And sorry, but don't expect this to be happy like this chapter might seem. This might not be a very happy story.


	3. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a problem. I have more work due this week than ever before in my life and I haven't started it because I've become obsessed with writing this story. This is great news for you guys but terrible for a person like me who just...can't right now. This is a lot of me in the past couple of months in this story which is why I keep writing. So, if you like this story, then best news ever. But for my work ethic, nope.

I’m not gay, I just like men.

Let me explain.

I’m homosexual. As in, I’m attracted to members of the same sex. I’ve known it for a while, yadda yadda yadda. I’ve actually known since I was young. I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to women. People just assume I am.

I know this is gonna sound horrible, but being gay is a choice.

You misunderstand me. You misunderstand the word. It’s a label. It’s a signifier for a signified you think you know. Sorry, my semiotics came out.

There is a gay culture filled with gay people and I am not a part of that. I walk down the street and I look at them and I see their lives, their abilities to be happy and show the world how gay they are and I hate it.

Okay, maybe there’s a bit more to this than I first thought.

I can’t tell anyone I’m gay. Well, I told Derek. But I can’t tell anyone else. Anyone else and my dad might find out. If my dad finds out, I might not have a life anymore. I’m not kidding. I don’t want to get into it. I don’t want you prying into my family life.

But I have this problem where I want to fuck a plethora of men, maybe fall in love, but I can’t because I’m afraid to. It’s not that I’m afraid of myself. Or that I’m afraid of my sexuality. I’m just afraid of my father. And the freezer. But, you already know that.

I see straight people dress nicer than me and I hate it. Okay, I’m falling into the stereotype. I just hate clothes. Like, I hate fashion, but I also hate clothes. I hate wearing them. I wish I could be naked always. But I hate clothes because I just want to be comfortable but everyone else tells me I can’t. Not comfortable like I feel like there is a break between what I wear and my identity. I mean, I want to wear baggy jeans and a hoodie and not have people judge me for it. I don’t want to wear skinny jeans rolled up in sperrys with no socks and a shirt buttoned up so high that I can’t breathe.

Goddamnit, the amount of times I have seen that on people. On guys holding a girl’s hand. Fucking stereotypes.

I don’t want to go to the club. I don’t want to take molly and trip my balls off and fuck some stranger because I’m lonely. God, I’m so homophobic. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I constantly find myself looking down upon those who fit so perfectly in their gay identity and I find myself awash in this sea of images of things I will never be and never want to be.

I just want to fuck men, all right? Is that too fucking much to ask?

I really shouldn’t be filled with so much hate. I really should just accept everyone and hope others accept me. I should just go along with everything that I can and feel comfortable. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to go to marches and demand equality and talk about how I can’t marry. I know I’m a shitty person for that, but I just want to tell the truth. I’ve been lying to so many people for so many years that it feels good to fucking say some truth out loud.

I know that there are people dying. I’m one of those, too. I’m the guy you are fighting for. The one who can’t be himself in his own home. I’m the one with the homophobic, abusive parent. So when you stand there and complain about how Lady Gaga is not adequately representing your community because she is not a part of your community (though she is bisexual, so she is, which just goes to show how ignorant you fucking are for not believing in bisexuality), just remember that your life is easy compared to mine.

I’m really sorry, I don’t even know who I’m yelling at anymore. I don’t even know why I’m yelling. I don’t even know what I’m say. I’m just spewing nonsense. Don’t listen to me. I’m just an ignorant, homophobic, angry, lonely homosexual.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m lonely. Whatever. It’s hard not being allowed to love. You have to live your life walking down the street, catching glances with people who catch glances at you, chances to interact and to touch and to love, and knowing that it’s there, but then not being able to make it true because you worry what your father will say. You live my fucking life and then you’ll see what it’s like.

I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. My life isn’t really all that bad. Derek helps.

When he told me he was gay, I was so happy. Not that I wanted him. I could never think of him that way. It would be too weird. It was just, here is another person who knows my pain. A guy who just likes guys. Someone who isn’t out there to fit the stereotype. Someone who isn’t on the scene or whatever shit. Someone who’s just as confused and messed up as I am.

I think I missed the whole gay rights movement. Everyone else is out having a good time and I’m stuck here moaning. Well, I have a right to. I have a right when I am persecuted. Not that they aren’t. Not that the entire community isn’t. Not that there aren’t people out there who still think AIDS was and is a good thing. There are people in Uganda dying for their right to love. Fuck, what am I even doing?

I don’t understand hookup culture. I really don’t. I tried grindr once. It was too weird. I didn’t like it at all. Someone messaged me for dick pics and I almost threw my phone. How was this acceptable behavior? Maybe I’m a prude. I’m probably a prude.

But, like, that seems so terrifying to me. Meet a guy. Don’t know his name. Fuck his brains out. Simple as that? Really? Is that a simple life? Sex complicates so much so quickly, how could just doing it really be that great. My entire life is ruined by sex.

Okay, that’s terrible. My life isn’t ruined. It’s just harder. I know there are people out there screaming because I said that but whatever. If I could choose, I would still choose to love men. I love me. I really do. I think.

Fuck, I know I’m messed up. I’m really sorry about that. I’m just in a terrible place right now, but I guess I don’t really have to say that, do I? I’m sure you already knew that. I’m sure you guessed based on my complaints that I’m not very happy. I try to be. I really try. But when I’m too terrified to be myself, when I don’t fit a word, I guess that could make anyone feel sad.

Shit, where is this going? Nothing’s happening. I have no idea what I’m trying to say anymore. You don’t mind, do you?

Words are stupid. Labels are stupid. Words mix up and belittle and oppress us. They force us to think in a certain way. Words cause sexism and homophobia. Words cause us to think we should be something we’re not. We fit one small aspect of a label and suddenly we’re forced to be everything that label entails. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of it all.

I’m so glad I have Derek. I think he’s taking all of this better than I am. Well, I think he went through the same thing, but maybe not to such an extreme. He knew his parents would love him. I don’t have such luxury.

Good god, I’m whining. I like men. It’s all right. It gets better. What am I saying? I don’t know.

I’m not gay, I just want to be gay.


	4. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this sad and make Allison tragic, but then I thought, fuck it, I'll have her be naughty and sassy instead. And I decided to make Scott the fun character...for now, at least. 
> 
> You can probably tell from this chapter how this story will be structured and the voices of each character. I'm going to try to stick to all of them in that way. Hope it's not too annoying. It's slightly more explorative than some people might like, but, well, whatever.
> 
> Also, I, like, really enjoy comments on my work, especially criticism, because I am always looking for ways to improve my writing, so if you have the time to write something, even if it's small, I would be the happiest person on the planet.

“I’m gay.”

“Yes.”

“What? You knew?”

“What? Oh, um, I kind of guessed.”

“After all of these years? You never asked?”

“Well, that’s kind of rude to ask of the guy you’re dating, right?”

“How long have you known?” 

“Like, maybe a couple months.”

“Allison, we’ve been dating for four months.”

“Yeah, about that much time.”

“God, how did you know?”

“Scott, you know everything about the person you love.”

“Allson, that’s...you know I’m gay, right?”

She laughed at that. I loved her laugh. I loved her. It was hard and I felt like crying. 

“God, Scott, I’ve gotten over it. I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ll never love me the same way I love you.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” Knowing Allison, I knew she was going to cry. She was going to voice the conflict that wasn’t sad or angry or pained, but it also wasn’t happy. I held her. I didn’t want to hurt her this way but there was really nothing I could do. At least this wasn’t too much of a shock. 

“We can still hang out. We can talk and you can help me with studying and I can coo at you and whatnot.”

“I know. I’m not angry, Scott. I’m not that at all. I’ll always love you just the way you are. That’s what love is. It’s accepting it and embracing it.”

“I’m glad you’re here for me.”

“I just have one question.”

“Shoot.”

“It may be personal.”

“It can’t be that personal. You already know...”

“Have you ever fooled around with Stiles?”

The question came out of left field. 

“I...”

“You don’t have to answer. That’s completely fine. It was too much of a step too fast and I’m sorry for invading your boundaries.”

“Once. I was drunk.”

“I knew it. Lydia owes me ten bucks.”

“You bet on whether I fucked Stiles?”

“I just asked if you fooled around with him. You fucked him? This is gold.”

“God, Allison.”

“Right, sorry, this is serious time. I was just crying. Don’t think about butt sex.”

“It’s not always butt sex.”

“You fucked him, Scott.”

“All right, yeah, I fucked him. Happy?”

“After I get my ten bucks, I’ll be ecstatic. Now, tell me everything.”

“I’m not telling you about my first time with a guy when I just broke up with you.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so boring. Just tell me.”

“All right. We just went out, pretty fucking drunk, I dragged Stiles away from his precious Jungle one night to a different club not full of gays, and we get home and Stiles is complaining about how there weren’t any of his people whatever shit he was spewing and I was like there was at least one more and he was like who so I say me and I think I’m gay and bear in mind I’m drunk off my ass so I barely know what I’m saying at this point but suddenly he kisses me which sobers me right up but I keep going and this leads to him...well...”

“Spit it out.”

“He surely didn’t.”

“Scott, you slut!”

“One time, Allison! It hasn’t happened since! And I don’t like you using that word. After that he said I fucked him and that was that. How did you know?”

“You didn’t talk to Stiles for like a week afterwards. Weirdest thing I had ever seen before in my life. You can’t go an hour without talking to him.”

“Yeah, well, waking up with him spooning me spooked me for a bit. But we talked it out and now we’re cool. He knows I’ll never do it again. Luckily we used protection because Stiles, well...”

“Scott, he’s your best friend.”

“I didn’t say I don’t love the guy, but he’s been with one too many, in my opinion. And I didn’t want to be that again. I just wanted to be his friend and that was that.”

“So, nothing else has happened since?”

“Nope. Nothing. No guys. Nada.”

“Have you been to Jungle with Stiles?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And nothing happens there? You must get hit on nonstop.”

“Oh, well, I dance, and sometimes I make out with the occasional stranger, but that’s it.”

“You never take them home?”

“Nope.”

“I retract my previous slut, Scott. You’re just boring.”

“Hey, I live my life the way I want to live my life. I’m just waiting.”

“Don’t say ‘till marriage, because that might take a little longer than you’d hope.”

“No, I just want to make sex special. If I want to get off, I can do that easily myself.”

“Eww, Scott.”

“What, you want to hear about my putting my dick in another man’s anus but you cringe when I talk about touching myself? You’re weird.”

“You’re weird. You can obviously get as much as you want.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want anything yet. Or, I want something special.”

“Guh, you romantic.”

“You only just noticed. I went out with you for four months and I thought I was attracted to you for only one.”

“Three months ago you figured this out? I figured it out before you?”

“You know me better than I know myself.”

“Which is why I know you’re not bullshitting me when you tell me you don’t want to have some flings.”

“Anonymous sex. I don’t want anonymous sex.”

“Fine. All right. But, I mean, I’ll be your wing man if you ever need it.”

“I got Stiles for that.”

“Stiles just steals the men from you.”

“Which is what I want.”

“I just think it’s funny how, before Stiles came out, when he tried hitting on girls, they would always think he is so weird. And you would always get it. But now it’s kind of reversed. Stiles has a much better streek than you have.”

“What can I say? Stiles is attractive to gay men.”

“How is Stiles, by the way?”

“He’s fine. His tricks have gotten a little more frequent if you ask me.”

“Look at you using the gay lingo already.”

“I live with Stiles, it’s easy to catch up on.”

“But you should take it easy on him. He’s just living his life.”

“He should take it easy on me! Where am I supposed to go when he brings a boy over?”

“Join them.”

“Allison, I have no idea where this kinkiness is coming from, but I think I like it.”

“You’re a bit too late for that train.”

“It’s fine, I’m taking the bus.”

“Was that a metaphor? Like the playing for the other team one?”

“Maybe, I don’t know where it came from though. I just made it up.”

“Keep trying, buddy. And I’m sure you’ll find someone special or whatever soon.”


	5. Derek

This was the third time we had met up. The first time, I was terrified and mortified. I opened the door and he attacked me and I thought I was going to die, but then I realized he was just kissing me and I was taken so far back I almost hit the opposite wall. Or, I might have pushed him against the opposite wall. After a sip of coffee, we were making out. It was weird the first time feeling another man’s erect cock. I had spent months and almost years thinking about it and then the first time it happens, it surprises me. It demands to be noticed, to be recognized and to be played with. It pokes at you and dominates you and I wasn’t complaining. He blew me and I came within seconds. It was the best fucking blowjob I had ever received, not that I had gotten that many before in my life. It was just like he knew how to read me so well that I melted in his mouth. Well, melted is the wrong word. I was the hardest in my life. After ten minutes, I fucked him on the couch. I again didn’t last long. I tried cuddling with him after but he was jittery, probably from the coffee, and moved about and said he had to be somewhere in an hour and had to clean up but that we would be in touch and he really enjoyed himself and that we should do this again soon and was it good for my first time? Little to no conversation.

The second time we met, he knew better than to pounce on me immediately but opened the door in just a towel. Fuck me, he was cute, I thought to myself. Like, really cute. Like, button nose, slightly lanky, rosy cheeks, big smile, brown hair, nerdy-type cute. He seemed so much more aware of everything that was going on and he seemed to be happy to show me the ropes. More than happy. He said so himself while we were making out not much later, him completely naked, not really smelling of shower but smelling more of sweat, like I had caught him right before he was about to take a shower. Or maybe he did this to trick me into getting me faster. Show off the goods or something. Do people do that or am I just reading too into this?

I wished there might have been a little more conversation before we had started. I liked what little conversation we had the last time and I love everything he says to me when he messages me. Everything he says is so goddamn witty, and everything he writes is so fucking spot on and I can tell he only writes it to get me in the mood because he wants to fuck but it works and I get horny instantly with all the bad things he types and fuck. He’s got me wrapped around his finger. I would do anything for him. I want to do everything for him. I want to know him as intimately as he somehow has figured out me. Or, at least I wish I knew myself as much as he knew me.

I had tried giving him head last time. It was slightly awkward and he had to talk me through it just like when he had to talk me through the correct protocol to anal sex the time before. Less teeth and don’t slobber and try to get it all the way and yeah it’s okay to gag, I actually kind of like it, yeah, keep going, more of the head, mhhh, ooh, please, god, fuck yeah, you’re getting the hang of this, almost there almost there keep going please god please keep going yes oh yes fuck yes fuck me oh deeper oh OH ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhH.I almost came myself listening to him speak like that to me. I tried swallowing his load but there was too much and I just let it dribble down my chin. He licked my beard clean telling me he likes the taste of himself. I told him I liked the taste of him, too.

After that, we fucked. I had a bit more stamina and I had jerked off beforehand so that I wouldn’t come immediately so we had time for more than one position. It was weird, but based on the porn I had watched, I didn’t think switching positions was such a fluid and organic thing. I thought you were supposed to stop and say all right now do this over here, but things transformed naturally until somehow we were across the room and he was on top of me up and down and up and down and then against the wall, me pushing so hard into him, me wanting to fuse bodies but taking the next best thing, him telling me I was a pro and that was the spot and fuck yes and then simultaneous orgasms. Again, we didn’t hold each other afterwards, but that might have been because we were against a wall so it was kind of hard to do that. There was some kissing, but then a look at the clock and a shit I’m going to be late and then sorry you have to go and can’t wait for next time just let me know when you are available and this was really enjoyable and maybe next time you can stay over for the night and the we won’t get very much sleep haha joke and my stomach knotting because to me this means maybe more than what I thought it was if he asked me to stay over.

This third time, I didn’t know if I should bring anything. It was near midnight and I was kind of tired but still super excited to be able to get laid again but also maybe get to know this guy who I thought was really cool but I barely knew. I didn’t know if I should bring a toothbrush or pajamas though we had both seen each other naked plenty of times before. Would there really not be any sleeping happening and could I go for that long and what if I fell asleep in the middle of fucking and what’s going to happen to me? All these thoughts rushed through my head as I waited for him to open the door.

When he opened it, he was nicely dressed, but not really going out clothes, but still not sweatpants. It was hard to describe the occasion one would wear these clothings, which gave me no anchor for which to tie to this night. What was I to expect? Where was I to go?

“I’ve got beer and I’ve got wine. If you want anything stronger, sorry. If you don’t want alcohol, that’s chill, too, and I could find you something.”

“I’ll actually just stick to my black coffee.”

“A man of habit. And possible plans for later this evening?”

“You said last time we might not be sleeping tonight,” I replied.

“And I stick to my word. Let’s see what happens though and I’ll just get you your coffee.”

I walked through his apartment and looked at all the stuff he had while I waited for him to brew. It was weird how this was the first time I had actually gotten a look at his stuff. The first two times, we were so busy, it all went by so fast. This time, I was able to appreciate more of the man.

He liked books. He had a large shelf that could be considered a library. He loved movies based on all of the DVDs scattered here and there. They ranged from the most obscure Lars von Trier to the latest Michael Bay. He did not discriminate in that department. He liked art based on the copies he had of relatively famous pieces that I had maybe seen once in an art history class I took as a liberal arts requirement some time ago. They were sparse but they were there. He didn’t like laundry. He didn’t have a laundry machine in his apartment, which might have been why. The last book he seemed to be reading was Catcher in the Rye because it was sitting out on the table next to an empty cup of coffee. He didn’t wear socks when he walked around his apartment but a sock bomb seemed to have gone off in his house.

When he walked back in with the coffee, he asked me, “So, you like the place?”

“Yeah, it’s got a charm.”

“What’s your assessment?”

“Hmm?”

“Grade my apartment. Did I pass the test?”

“I would say...” I was stalling because I had no idea what to say. I just wanted to know the guy. I didn’t want to grade him. “S...for satisfactory.”

“Elementary school grading? How hipster.”

I chuckled a little bit. His grin widened and his cheeks blushed and his eyelashes wavered at his own joke. We went on to talk about hipsters for a little bit longer. I don’t know how he had so much to say, but he analyzed the entire sub-culture, evaluating every single miniscule aspect of every part of it. He seemed to know it intimately in the way he seemed to know everything intimately. He neither approved nor looked down upon the group. He merely stated facts and what other groups believed in and what the group in itself believed. Maybe he was an anthropology or sociology major in college. I don’t know, but he often times began to use big words, stop, and then explain in more layman’s terms.

Somehow through this entire conversation, his body moved from one side of the room to on my lap. He finished telling me about Neutral Milk Hotel and the “holiness” that is the Elephant Six Recording company looking into my eyes and smiling, the little know-it-all I had become obsessed with. I couldn’t contain myself anymore. I had to have him.

I kissed him deeply, pushing him deeper and deeper into the plushness of the couch. I felt like if I could push more into him, maybe I could become him, or at least attain some of the intellect and wit he had. Though he looked relatively lanky, he could respond easily to anything I gave to him and pushed back, possibly trying to do the same thing to me.

Clothes came off. We moved to the bed. People were thrown. Mostly him. People were pounced on. Mostly him. But I’d be lying if I said he didn’t happen to me, too. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it. Kissing. Touching. Throbbing. Grasping. Holding. Exploring. Tonguing. Sucking. We did everything and more. He found places I didn’t know existed. He did things to my dick that even my dick didn’t know what to do about it.

After prepping, I slid into him. For this moment, I was the closest I had ever been to him. Here, I really felt him, almost became him. I entered him, explored him, discovered him. It was more than just sex. It was more than just thrusting. I was knowing him. I was going past his guard because he had let the guard off for that. I was in a place I wasn’t supposed to be because he trusted me enough to be there. My skin was on fire. His skin was hot velvet. His body was solid gold. Every touch took me closer to nirvana, closer to some hidden truth I didn’t even know existed and words could not grasp. Past ideologies. Past thoughts and reality and earthly bounds. I found my existence in this moment.

Somehow we get to the edge of the bed, us facing each other, his legs hanging off and mine keeping me on, him grinding down farther and farther on my cock and me trying for dear life to hold onto him, the bed, sanity, anything. Suddenly, he tightened around me and I could feel the drip of his come dribble onto me from his hands-free orgasm, giving me permission to let go completely and move with him, shooting into my condom inside of him, riding my orgasm as he rode his orgasm on me.

Kissing continued, he slid off of me, I slid my condom off, and jumped next to him on his bed.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said, kissing my neck and nibbling slightly.

“Does that normally happen?” I asked between breaths and moans.

“Nope, but I don’t normally grind against one of the thickest cocks I’ve seen attached the hottest guy I’ve met,” he said, nuzzling against my chest.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” I responded into the air.

“It just...happened. Like one moment I was fine and suddenly I was climaxing. It was so surreal. I hit another plane or something like that.”

“I’m glad you could be of service,” I told him.

“You know, if you ever want to try it, I wouldn’t mind topping once.”

I don’t know why but that prospect both terrified and excited me. I might have made some sort of look on my face because he immediately added, “Though it’s completely fine if you’re not into that. Not everyone is.”

“Uh...maybe one day,” I told him, keeping my options open. “Do you, uh, wanna go another round?”

“Well then, someone’s fast. I know you come back quick or whatever, but damn, if you’re really into it.”

I laughed to try and relieve the tension. I suddenly felt like maybe I was too excited or too eager for sex and wanted to make him know that I was into more, but at the same time not wanting to scare him and whatnot and suddenly I was a mix of conflictions, wanting to please him and wanting to be him and be with him and... I don’t know. My thoughts stopped when he kissed me. My thoughts always stop then.

We went another round. I was still the top. I felt like there was much more to being a bottom than what I did, which was basically just to put my dick in somewhere and thrust. I gave him head because I have acquired the new love for the taste of his privates. I felt like we were intimate with him in me and me wanting him there.

After that, I was too tired. Sex is strenuous, much more than anything I’ve ever done, and being a very active man, that is saying a lot. He seemed tired, too, so he decided we should watch a movie or something. He asked me what I wanted to watch and I had no idea so I let him chose. He wanted to watch Amélie but decided that, with it being in French, it might not be the best to fall asleep to. So he decided on (500) Days of Summer because he told me how obsessed he was with it when it came out and how many times he had seen it and then proceeded to quote almost the entire movie while we watched it, making it difficult to go to sleep.

I was tired enough, however, and about a third of the way into the movie, as their in the IKEA, I mutter in the half sleep, “This is so cute. This movie is so romantic.” Normally, I don’t say things like this out loud or even in my thoughts but my guard was down. I was high on sex and the scent of him and, come on, I just had his dick in my mouth. I was able to say something truly out loud and to myself, something that I found trouble with and if I hadn’t been so sleepy I would have been terrified and my heart might have stopped.

“You think this movie is romantic?” he asks. “You must not be watching it correctly. It’s one of the least romantic romantic comedies ever. It’s actually quite harsh. It’s actually quite sad.”

“I think it’s cute. I think you’re cute.”

“Thanks, you’re pretty hot, too.”

“No, like, you’re hot, but...you’re cute. Know what I mean?”

He laughed. His goddamn laugh. His goddamn eat at my soul take up his entire body and swallow me with it laugh. “No, I really don’t.”

“Like he said in the movie. I like...us. Us. I like it.”

I melted and took all his heat, leaving him in the conscious, falling suddenly to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You don't know it yet, but this just took a turn for the worst. 
> 
> Am I ruining it? I don't care.


	6. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be a terrible person. What I have done to the Stiles character. Yeah, I'm a pretty shitty guy. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Whatever.

_Hey havent heard from you in a while_

I see the message and I immediately put it away. I know exactly who it’s from. I continue hanging out with Scott.

“Who was that?” he asked, slightly nosily.

“Oh, it was no one,” I tell him. Because it was. “Tell me about Allison. What was her response?”

“She took it well,” he tells me. 

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, she cried,” he continues.

“Scott, I hate to break it to you, but crying is not good. Crying is in fact bad. I don’t know of a time when crying has been good.”

“There can be tears of joy.”

“I mean when coming out. Was Allison so happy that you’re a homo that she started crying?”

“No, it was more of just a moment thing. She cried for a little bit and told me that she loves me and that she always will and that she was glad I told her and that she already knew and whatnot. I told her about what happened to us.”

“Scott, nothing happened to us. I already have one clingy guy right now. I can’t have my best friend suddenly fall in love with me.”

“Who is this guy? You haven’t told me about any guy.”

All right, so I’ve been trying to avoid this subject, and I may be trying to avoid him, but I guess that’s just impossible. I guess God just wants me to confront all of this for some reason and make me have to deal with this shit storm or whatever. 

“He’s just this guy I met and we were hooking up.”

“Was he cute?” he asked me stupidly.

“Would I fuck I guy I didn’t think was hot? Come on, Scott. I have standards.”

“But, like, how hot?”

“Mind numbingly, all right? He was mind numbingly hot and really good in bed.”

“And? What happened?”

“He said I was cute.”

“You are cute,” he said.

“No, like, cute. Like relationship cute. Like that’s something you tell your boyfriend or whatever.”

“But I just called you cute. Is there something I’m missing? Have I been coming on too strongly to guys?” Scott asked himself, beginning to worry. I could see it in his adorably naive eyes. 

“No, no, Scott, it’s fine. It’s more of a me thing. I only really call a guy cute when I’m trying to get them in bed. It’s an endearing thing to say, but when you’re already sleeping together, it’s just...weird, you know?”

“Nope, that sounds like a load of shit,” Scott replied. 

“All right, well, he also said, ‘I like us.’”

“And?” Scott asked again. 

“And what does that mean?”

“It means he likes what you guys are doing together. Which is messing around. Is that not what it is? That’s what it sounds like.”

“No, he was quoting (500) Days of Summer and he was trying to be all cute and...”

“Was he being cute?” Scott asked. 

“No it was weird and random and cheezy and I don’t know what he was trying to do just then but I didn’t like it because I didn’t want to be a part of that. Why can’t I just want to fuck around? Why is that so much of a problem?”

“Stiles, how many times have you seen this guy?” he asks me. 

“Three.”

“And has he slept over?”

“Once.”

“Was this the last time?”

“Yeah, when he said I like us. How did you know?”

“Unlike you, I have been and am not afraid of a relationship.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Here me out, Stiles. You ask him to sleep over. Does that not sound like something serious?”

“It just means more fucking time.”

“No, it just means I had to go over to Allison’s to stay over and you shared an intimate night with a guy you’ve been hooking up. You fell asleep together, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you cuddle?”

“Well, yeah, but...”

“Does that not imply something more?”

“It just means I like to cuddle. It shouldn’t mean more than the fact that I like to cuddle. Cuddling is nice, all right?”

“I’m just saying you can’t expect him not to expect more if you act like this with him. You can’t give him this and then pull away.”

I look at my watch and then back at Scott. “Oh, I just realized, I have to go. Sorry. Thanks for lunch. You’re the best. I’ll talk to you later text me bye!”

I had nowhere to be. I just wanted Scott to stop judging me so much in that one moment. I mean, he can’t tell me what to do. This is my life and I want to live it in this way. I’m young. I want to explore. Isn’t that what being queer is? Exploring sexuality? I wanted to do that. I wanted to find out what I liked and who I liked and then when I’ve figured that out then I can settle down. Or maybe I won’t settle down. Maybe sex just keeps getting better and better as I age and I won’t find the person I want to settle down with.

_Are you busy?_

Another message. Yes, I’m fucking busy. I’m busy fucking. I’m busy living my life while I still have a life to live. I can’t be tied down. I can’t be anything right now. I don’t want to define myself. I especially don’t want to define myself based upon another person. I don’t have time for your messages or for you or for what you want. 

I’m getting angry, and that’s a tad harsh, but I went in for a certain purpose and he came in with another purpose and I just can’t have that. That’s not how relationships work. We just don’t click. Sure the sex is phenomenal and sure he listens to me whenever I spew nonsense for hours on end and he eats it up, but I have others for that. Why have one guy to do all that when I can have several? If one stops doing it, then I can go find someone else. If Derek stops doing one, I will have to go find a whole new group of people and I can’t have that. 

I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to hold hands and I don’t want to get stopped by homophobes anytime I’m with someone. I just want to live my life. I know I’ve already said that but I just want to make it clear. I’m living my life and he’s living his. That’s it. They’re separate. They do not coincide. They don’t need to. He was there for sex and he wanted more so I’m not going to have that. 

He’ll move on. He’ll get over it. He’s a good looking guy. He’ll find someone else. He’ll find someone in a heartbeat. Anyone would fuck him. Though I would like to I just can’t give him what he wants. Scott was right, I can’t be selfish. I can’t fuck him when he wants a relationship to go with it. That’s just not fair for him. So I’ll cut him off. Completely. Cold turkey. That’s what’s best. He’ll be hurt now but he would be hurt more if I don’t. 

I just can’t fucking deal with all those goddamn messages.


	7. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know whether this is a step in a good direction or bad. 
> 
> Well, I do know, but I'm not going to tell you.

It’s so fucking cold outside. Like, it’s so cold that it needs a fucking right in front of it. Like, it screams to be attached to a profanity. It’s bright as hell but my ears feel like they have frostbite. It’s March, why is it so fucking cold?

I also have somewhat of an allergy. I’ve never had an allergy before. But my nose feels runny. It feels more reactive than it has ever felt before. Every change in the wind sends a sting throughout my body emanating from my nose. And the wind won’t stop blowing.

I’m walking alone again. I always walk alone. I always pass people in groups. Why do so many people walk together? How do they find each other? Did they plan to walk together or did it just happen? Do they know each other?

I wish someone would walk with me. I wish someone would listen to me tell the embarrassing story I have from last night. If only I had a story. If only I had someone to tell it to. I would probably not say anything. It’s easier than saying something. Then you have to filter. Blocking is easier than filtering. It just keeps everyone away.

I’m so hungry. I just want to get something to eat and then maybe I’ll be happier. I wish I wasn’t so depressed all the time. Maybe I do have depression. Maybe I have a serious case of depression that will never go away and I just let it go untreated, rotting my flesh away or something like that. Does depression work like that? I don’t think so but I’m not entirely sure how anything works. I’m just making statements in my head.

This place seems to be farther than I remember. I haven’t been there in a while, so I can’t really remember it all that well, and I don’t know why I even want to go there. I should just go get a sandwich from the place I always go but no I’m feeling adventurous I want something different I want to try to find a life outside my own because I hate mine so much. Is that it? That must be why I decided to walk what feels like forever for this food in the cold.

On the front of the newspaper I see the house across from the Westboro Baptist Church that painted the LGBT pride flag on its facade. I think about how brave that is and how progressive the world is becoming and how open people are becoming about my people and I think about how my father is the exact opposite and suddenly the wind blows harder into my nose and into my eyes and I start tearing up and I have to wipe away the liquid that accumulates in the crevices of my eyes and people probably think I’m crying but it’s really just the wind.

I finally find the place again and walk inside. I order my meal and sit down to eat. I realize I have nothing to do for some time and I curse myself that I stupidly forgot to bring a book or something and I’m just going to eat this lunch alone in my all quiet and in my own head and I won’t be able to get out of myself and this won’t be very pleasant, I’m sure. No, I won’t take my phone out. That looks desperate. No, I will not do any of that. I need to learn to be alone. For a person who’s been doing it all his life, I should probably have figured it out by now. So why haven’t I?

I sit there, waiting for my meal, and my mind and my eyes wander. I look at all the happy people eating their happy meals and I seriously consider whether it would be a good idea for me to go to therapy. I know it would but I also know my father would never pay for it. And I don’t have the money. Or the time. So I guess I will just have to deal with this alone. Well then. Fine. So be it.

I keep looking at all the people. Is it just me or is everyone gorgeous? Everyone is so much more attractive than me in the world. Every single person has a perfect face with perfect proportions and perfect skin and I wonder if I’ll always be alone. Maybe my desperate attempts to not be alone are the sole reason I cannot find anyone. A Catch-22 or something like that. Good looking happy people find good looking happy people and I sit here in my misery watching them watch each other, wishing someone would just watch me.

Oh, wait. There is someone watching me.

Do I have something on my shirt? Do I look funny? Can he smell the gay on me and want to hurt me because of it? What reason could he have for trying to make eye contact with me and then letting go?

He’s probably the best looking guy in the place so he can’t be looking at me because he thinks I’m the best looking guy. There can’t be two. He can’t think I’m that good looking either because I pale in comparison to him. He’s two levels above the rest. And the levels in here are high. And I’m several levels below that.

What is it that he wants? Is it someone behind me? Does he feel sorry for me? Good looking people don’t like me. Nobody likes me. I’m plain and lonely and I reek of sadness.

Does he just like people watching? Is he curious about who I am? I guess that’s probably the best explanation as to what is going on. He sees a lonely man sitting by himself waiting for his order to be called and he wants to make a back story about him. About how he got here and why he is so sad and what happens next.

All right then, pretty stranger, two can play at that game.

He was a jock in high school. His girlfriend was the hottest girl in school. They were destined for each other. He had a loving home and a loving dad and a pretty mom who was always there for him and he didn’t know what death was and he probably didn’t read and he probably lost his virginity at fourteen and he never had weird feelings about guys and he never felt uncomfortable in his own skin and he never had to keep a secret from someone else because he had nothing to hide because he was perfect and everyone was aware of it but they didn’t hate him for it because he was truly perfect and truly perfect things are not hated.

I don’t want to know the story he made for me. I just want my food and I want him to stop looking at me. I want him to stop breaking eye contact whenever I look over because I want to look in his pretty eyes because they make me feel something for once that I don’t normally get to feel or ever feel and I’m rambling and this is ridiculous and life just hurts when good things are just close enough to be seen but not close enough to be attained.

Oh, fuck, he’s coming over here.


	8. Scott

“Hi.”

“Uh...hi...?”

“Sorry, I noticed you eating by yourself, and, well, I was eating by myself as well, so, well, maybe...would you want to eat together?”

“Ummm...why not?” He said this with great fragility, like each note was shattering his bones. “Wait, they just called my food.”

“Oh no, let me get that, don’t worry, I’m getting up anyway.”

“Oh, thanks.”

I turned around, allowing myself to let the smile I was trying to keep hidden rip my face in two. Picking up his order and grabbing what was left of my own food, I bring myself back together, not to seem too eager, and turn around, trying to forget the conversation I just had with Stiles, which irked me some and made me think that my best friend may be superficial.

It’s hard to keep that smile in, though, because this guy’s so fucking cute.

“I’m Scott...by the way.”

“Isaac. And thanks.”

“Was there any reason you were sitting alone?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry for being too forward. Sometimes I’m a bit too forward. If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”

“No, it’s fine. There’s no real reason why I was sitting here alone. I just, sometimes I like to be alone.”

“That’s cool. I can get that. Me, I don’t like it so much, but I can see why sitting alone might be nice. I was just with my friend, so I was in the eating-and-chatting mood, but he left and I needed someone to chat with so I hope it’s not too much of a problem if I sit and chat with you.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why me?”

“Well, I can’t really mind that question. I mean, I brought it upon myself when I asked if I could sit with you and I already asked you an awkward question but I guess it’s your turn. Um...you looked like you needed someone to sit with.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, God, that came out so wrong. I didn’t mean it like that or anything. I just meant that anyone sitting by themselves look like they need someone to talk to and I guess it’s a social stigma that people always need to be social and that if you’re alone you’re a freak or something and I’m just making it worse and, well, I’m sorry. I can go if you want. I’ve been embarrassing already. Sorry, I’m flustered I just had an interesting conversation with someone.”

“No, it’s fine, I guess. I get it. What was this interesting conversation? A bad one?”

“Not bad, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Fight with your girlfriend?”

“Oh, hah, no, no girlfriend. I’m...I’m gay.”

“Oh. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry.”

“No. It’s weird, that’s only like the third time I’ve said it out loud. I’ve said it so many times in my head that when I actually mouth the words and the words come out and others listen, it’s kind of scary.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, it’s not really scary, being gay isn’t scary. It’s just...weird, you know? I’m still in the whole coming out phase or whatever. Still telling those I know and love. I’ve only told two people so far and now you, a person I’ve just met. That’s a good thing, I think?”

“Who have you told?”

“My best friend and my girlfriend.”

“I thought you said there was no girlfriend.”

“Right. Ex. Sorry. We just broke up for obvious reasons. I’m still not used to it yet. She was a significant part of my life for a while.”

“How did she take it?”

“She took it pretty all right. She knew before I did.”

“Significant others can usually know more about you than you know about you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“So, your interesting conversation. Was it with your best friend? Did you just tell him? Was that why it was interesting?”

“No, I told him a while ago. He was actually the first person I told. It was on something else.”

“What?”

“Oh, it’s...awkward.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I’m not entirely sure about what it was all about either.”

“That’s totally fine. You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s just...he’s been sleeping around and he’s been messing around with this one guy a lot while still sleeping with others and I think...that’s not cool, right?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem cool.”

“Right? And, I don’t know, I’m just a little angry over that because usually he’s always in the right and he always has the answer to everything, but right now, he just doesn’t seem to get it. Something went wrong and now he just doesn’t seem to see that what he’s doing to this guy is not okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m ranting. I shouldn’t be ranting. It’s rude. Do you...do you come here often? Wow, that was a question.”

“Heh. No, I don’t. I hadn’t been here in a long while.”

“I come here all the time. I always eat here. It’s kind of bad. I think I might own stock in this place by now. Has it changed much?”

“It looks a little different.”

“I like those places that don’t really have a style. Or their style is that their style keeps changing, you know? There was this place that was like that but then it ran out of business, I guess because people don’t normally like change, but I do. I like new things. Not necessarily improved, but a breath of fresh air is good every now and then.”

“Yeah, that’s true. That’s why I came here today.”

“You see? And then you met me, which must have been pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s not so bad.”

“What, the place or me?”

“Both?”

“You’re pretty cool yourself. I’m glad I came over to talk to you. I don’t know if you couldn’t tell, but I was kind of gawking at you from across the room.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was thinking to myself, that guy looks really cool. I wonder what his deal is?”

“I was looking at you, too.”

“Well, would you look at that. And I was just about to leave because I thought you would think I’m weird.”

“Well...”

“Oh, hah. But I’m glad I didn’t miss this. I might have even gone on Craig’s List and posted something on that Missed Connections page. Do people still do that?”

“I’m not sure.”

“My friend told me that guys sometimes go on there for random hookups which just seems terrifying. I’ve never done it myself.”

“I’ve never done it either.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t judge you if you did. I think it’s interesting. That also means I wouldn’t have found you because you don’t use it. That’s pretty sad. I would have completely missed you. But I’m glad I was able to talk to you for this brief time before I had to leave. I really liked this.”

“I liked it to.”

“We should do this again sometime.”

“Definitely.”

“Could I have your number? I’ll call you and we can figure something out. We could go eat somewhere else so I can try something new.”

“Like a date?”

“A date? I wasn’t expecting a date. I didn’t think you were into that. I thought you were straight.”

“I...uhh...”

“A date is great! I was hoping against hope for a date! Here’s my phone. Just put your number in.”

I watched with eager anticipation as the blood rushed to his ears and his fingers played with my phone. I’m planning on planning a date with this guy I just met and he’s the cutest guy I’ve ever seen.


End file.
